


A Tale of Two Dragonborns

by AcerbusHicFuit



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn - Freeform, Dragons, Fanfiction, Fantasy, Gen, Miraak - Freeform, Slow To Update, an attempt at humor is made, excessive backsass, is 2020 too late
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23601913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcerbusHicFuit/pseuds/AcerbusHicFuit
Summary: Sometimes, I wonder if the Divines hate me. It wouldn't surprise me if they did, to be frank. One can imagine, it rarely is easy for a Dragonborn. Just look at all the others before me. Lavishly-living emperors, most of whom rarely did anything. They weren't exactly fated to deal with an actual threat. I was. It isn't all that it's cracked up to be, just getting that out of the way, first. Tracking a god of destruction to the Nordic afterlife wasn't the most enjoyable experience.But was that enough, putting old Alduin in the old cosmic time-out for a few thousand years? Nope. Not even two years later, the most attitudinal five-thousand-year-old pain in my ass was thrown into my lap by the Daedric Prince of Fate and Knowledge. I'm a milk-drinking pacifist. I didn't ask for any of this.(there will be no set update schedule, so don't expect much from me mkay? I'm only writing this at all because I'm bored in quarantine)
Kudos: 7





	1. The Nightmare Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, this is just an intro, so it's short. I also have some old notes on this because I wanted to do this, but I was too busy with work and such, and now that I'm in quarantine, I actually have time. The first few chapters will be uploaded often because of this, but no guarantee that later ones will be the same. With that in mind, have fun, and please leave feedback and critique so I can improve my writing! Thanks for reading!

  
  
I eased myself down into the chair I had set upon the rear porch with a sigh. There was a mug of pekoe tea at my ankle, and the setting sun shone diluted through the pines surrounding the grove. I tapped my fingers against the arm of the rickety chair. The birds were chirping idly in the branches above, and the foxes yapped in the distance. I puffed and leaned back, about to fall asleep. Then my horse whinnied. I perked up from my chair, and I peered past the side of my cabin. Alfsigr was normally quiet.   
  
Then came the voices. I squinted, and when I stood up, I kicked over my tea. I swore, and I kicked the mug to the side.   
  
"Whoever made me spill my tea, you picked a bad time to do it...." I padded off the porch, into the grass, and started toward the front of the house, only to stop at the porch. There were two figures that had just come in from the road. They were both short, with reddish, leathery robes and white masks reminiscent of porcelain. They were armed.   
  
I watched them, hesitant, and I was about to take a step back to get my ax when one of them spotted me. He pointed towards me and uttered something to his companion, and they came striding over.   
  
"You there! Are you the one they call Dragonborn?" He spat those words in a Dunmeri accent, and their clothes smelt of mold and ash. I sent the two ridiculously dressed individuals a quizzical stare, and I was slow to answer.  
  
"...Yes, I am." There was a snort from the instigator's companion.   
  
"Your lies fall upon deaf ears, deceiver." I raised a brow.   
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"The True Dragonborn shall come. You are but his shadow, fiend!" the first cut in. I was about to ask what they were on, but I shut my mouth when they drew their swords. I took a step back.   
  
"I will warn you , you best put your weapons down. _Now_." They had no words, only a quick approach. I loped backward to gain distance, and I breathed the first word of Slow Time. They froze, and stepped in and ripped the sword out of the instigator's hands just before the spell wore off. The one stopped, as if shocked, and looked up at me. The other had hitched, but hadn't paused, and she leaping at me with her daggers. I parried one, but not both, and ended up with a scrape on my cheek. Before she could gear up to strike me again, I gripped the sword and drove it into her belly. She screamed, and I ripped it out of her and threw her down on the grass, then turned to the initial instigator.   
  
"Stand down. I'd hate to do that again, but I will if I have to!" The instigator froze, fingers clawing in thought, before mage-fire sparked in his palms. Before he could cast, I lunged and kicked him in the gut. He hit the ground with a wheeze, and I pinned him by the chest with my foot. "Who sent you?" The man huffed for the breath that was knocked out of him.  
  
"Wench!" he gasped. "Nord wench!" I pointed the sword to his throat.  
  
"I'm not looking to spill any more blood. If you just answer my questions, I'll spare you." He was silent, save for his heaving breath. "Well?"  
  
"You... You are but my lord's shadow. When he appears, you will be shouted apart, just as this frozen wasteland's High King!"   
  
"What- Who are you talking about? What lord?"  
  
"My lord is truth! And you, impostor, deceiver, are a lie!" I frowned.   
  
"You're mad."  
  
"I am cognizant!"   
  
"Listen, I have no idea as to what you are on about, but if you don't start making sense, I'm afraid you'll be sharing your friend's fate for my own safety. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
"Kill me, then! I'll not breathe before I breathe my lord's name upon you and taint it! I'd spit upon your leath'ry pelt, were it not for my mask!"   
  
To be brief, I ended up killing him, for he raised his mage-fire at me when my step on him weakened. I at first didn't know what to do. I'd had assassins after my head before, namely from the Thalmor, but I never had to search for the source because they made themselves prominent enough. I didn't know those robes. They weren't Morag Tong, that was for sure. I rooted through his satchel, and I found a note.  
  
 _"Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Haldis "Red-Dragon" Ragnardottir before she reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."_


	2. More Introductions That I really Hate Writing

When I read through that note, I was at a loss. Raven Rock was a town on Solstheim, an island once governed by the Nords which was later given to Morrowind after the Red Mountain's eruption. I was unsure of how to even approach the issue. For a handful of reasons, I was disliked by my former friends in Whiterun, and it was awkward in Falkreath, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and rode up to Windhelm.  
  
When I reached the port, I was pointed to _The Northern Maiden_ by the Argonian dock workers. Gjalund Salt-Sage was toiling by the mast when I found him.   
  
"Excuse me," I called. He jolted and looked at me as he straightened himself. "Are you the captain of this ship?"  
  
"Sure. Yeah. That's me. Why? Who sent you?" Bewildered by his frazzled glower, I took a deep breath in preparation for an argument.   
  
"Well, it's come to my attention that some people that are after my head were brought to Skyrim by you. I'd like an explanation." Gjalund's pale complexion drained.   
  
"Now hold on! I didn't know they were going to attack anybody. I don't even know how I got here." I frowned, skeptical, and scowled.   
  
"How can you not know how you got here? You sailed here, right?" The captain grimaced, and he ran his fingers through his blonde hair.   
  
"I did, I just-" He took a moment to think. "It's hard to explain... I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then... The next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone." He huffed. "That's not right, losing whole days like that. There's been something strange happening on Solstheim for a while, but after this... I'm done. I'm not going back to Solstheim."  
  
"Sir, I'd say you owe me. The men you brought here tried to kill me." Gjalund's expression didn't falter. I patted my satchel. "What's your fee?"   
  
"I said it once and I'll say it again; I'm not going back!"   
  
"I'll pay double!" Gjalund's grimace shifted then.   
  
"You don't have that much," he hissed. I gripped my satchel, ripped it open, and pulled out a coin purse that I waved in his face.   
  
"This'll be yours if you take me to Raven Rock. You don't even have to make it to port, just get me to the bloody island!" Gjalund eyed the coinpurse, and he snatched it out of my grip.   
  
"How much is in here?"   
  
"About four-hundred Septims, give or take. Is that enough?" Gjalund stared at me, then at the purse, and he sighed.   
  
"You aren't gonna leave me alone until I agree to take you, are ya?" I gave him an expectant look. He closed his eyes and inhaled. "I'll take halfa what's in there, and we'll set off in a few days."  
  
I ended up heading to Candlehearth Tavern to sleep, as I hadn't rested well since my setting off from Falkreath Hold. In the room that I paid for, I lay on my bed. I couldn't sleep, and it wasn't for fear of those cultists. I had enough people around me to be safe. Rather, it was the thought of another Dragonborn. Some part of me always had a... a _void,_ for lack of better words. I couldn't quite explain it, but one can imagine that it was lonesome that I was the Last. I puffed.   
  
I had at first figured that this mysterious man was a Dragon, judging by his name. _Mir-Aak,_ meaning "loyal guide," in _Dovahzul._ I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my bag, from which I pulled out the crumpled letter from the cultist. I scanned over it again. I hoped I could perhaps talk this poser down. I doubted he was of the blood. I was the Last, after all.  
  
Gjalund kept up his end of the promise. Two days after our conversation, one of Gjalund's crew came for me in the tavern, and I was taken out to the ship. Mind, I had never been on a large ship out on the open sea. As such, I didn't realize I would suffer from intense seasickness. Three miserable days passed of my hurling my guts up into the Sea of Ghosts.   
  
When _The Northern Maiden_ finally docked in Raven Rock, I could've kissed the ground that the weaving and undulating and puking was finally over. Unfortunately, my celebration was cut short, for several curious Dunmer came running to see the rare sight of a ship tied in the port. One in particular came forward and stared at me strangely as I re-gained my land-legs back.   
  
"I don't recognize you, Nord," he murmured. I sniffed, turned to gaze at Gjalund, who was hollering at his sailors to prepare to leave, then back at the Dunmer. "I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock. State your intentions, outlander." I mutely groaned and straightened myself.   
  
"Nothing of especial importance, just looking for someone. Do you know a man named Miraak? I was told I could find him on the island." The Dunmer frowned, then, puzzled, and he stroked his chin in thought. He hummed, his brow knitted tightly, and he grimaced. The two other townsfolk took to thinking as well, but came up silent.  
  
"I... I'm not sure that I do..." I huffed. "I swear, I've heard the name, but I can't place it..."  
  
"Is there anything you know that can point me in the right direction?" He shook his head. One of the others spoke up.   
  
"Second Councilor Adril, what about the Earth Stone?" Adril looked up at him.   
  
"What of it?"  
  
"Some of the townsfolk there have muttered that name." My lips quirked up.  
  
"May I ask there?" Adril hummed, then looked to me, his sternness returning to his face.   
  
"Well, there's no law stopping you. Go ahead, if you wish," he said. I nodded with a painfully fake smile and passed him and the others on my way onto the dock.   
  
"So, where is this _Earth Stone_ of yours?" I asked. Adril pointed to the opposite side of the port.   
  
"Just over there, by the water on the other side of town. You won't get much out of the workers there, though." I went to say something, but closed my mouth, shrugged, and started over there.   
  
Raven Rock was modest little town of Dunmeri architecture. The houses were built from some kind of shell, and the only brick homes were owned by the sparse handful of humans in town. On top of that, everything was covered in ash, and I could see a smoldering volcano over the Bulwark. I passed a smithy, but the forge was cold and unoccupied. There was a small farm in the ash, but no one was tending to the crop. I found that strange, and I kept on down the path toward the Stone.   
  
When I arrived at its premises, I paused and gazed out at the men who tirelessly worked upon arches that surrounded the Stone. One, who appeared to be a blacksmith by his apron, was nearest to me when I arrived. I strode up to him and stood in his way of the construction.   
  
"Excuse me, sir, could you-" The smith squinted at me, and he veered around me with a stone in his arms. _I guess that's what that long-eared ass meant when he said don't bother asking the workers..._ I sighed and approached the Stone to get a better look. The workers were muttering to themselves as they hauled and chiseled rock, ignoring me entirely. I raised a hand and tentatively touched the Stone's surface. My mind went blank.  
  
 _"Here in my temple, here in my shrine, that you have forgotten, here do you toil..."_ I swallowed thickly. The voice that I heard came from nowhere, yet I heard it all around me. It was oddly soothing, a gravelly, whispering tone. I was tired. _"That you might remember. By night you reclaim what by day was stolen-"_ I tore myself away from the Stone and backed out into the ash. My heart was pounding. My hands were clammy. I could scarcely breathe. I shook my head to clear the fog, but it didn't help.  
  
I ended up leaving, having gotten nowhere with the workers and been terrified by what I experienced, and landed in the _Retching Netch._ I stopped at the bar, glad to see the tender wasn't indoctrinated, and slumped onto a stool after giving him my order. The bartender, an old Dunmer by the name of Geldis Sadri, served me, and I took to asking him about who I was looking for, considering he wasn't occupied by the Stone.   
  
"Hm. I don't think I know anyone by that name. Sorry, outlander." I respired and tapped my fingers against the bar while he dug behind the counter for a drink. "Hm. Looks like I'm fresh out outta Black-Briar. Can I interest you in some Ashfire Brew? Made by the Nords, here on the island." I nodded and handed him the money he needed.   
  
"So, have you heard anything about the man I'm looking for?" Geldis hummed as he poured me a drink and set it down onto the counter.  
  
"Well, there _was_ a Telvanni wizard around here just the other day that spoke of him in here. Said there's some kind of ruin towards the middle of the island with a name like that. Some kind of offering to the Dragons from long ago," he said. I smiled at him.   
  
"Thank you, mister Sadri." Geldis's mouth quirked up into a smile from behind his mustache.   
  
"Geldis is fine, outlander." He itched his jaw. "Do you need a room? I got a vacant one in the back." After I finished my drink, I paid him for a room and ducked in there to sleep.   
  
When I awoke, I was serenaded by that lovely voice again. I wasn't anywhere near the Stone, but when I came to, I was upright and walking towards the door. I huffed. I never slept well, anyway, though I was certainly... unsettled. The bar was quiet, likely early in the morning, though there was no way to tell, considering the clouded sky. I shrugged, now wide awake and having planned to leave early, and started pulling my armor on.  
  
It was early morning, but the shops were open, and I visited the general goods salesman for a map of Solstheim so I could get my bearings. It was when I purchased that map that I realized just how vast of an island Solstheim was, and that I wouldn't have a great time without my horse. I uttered a "thank you" to the salesman and walked out of the shop to set out for the ruin Geldis spoke of.  
  
Solstheim, while I'd heard before that the island was gorgeous in its day, no longer lived up to its original name. While once rumored to be a frosty woodland, it was now a sandy, barren desert with snapped trees and gritty soil. I scarcely passed more than a single herd of deer on my northeastward trek into the mountains. Two days following my departure from Raven Rock, I distantly sighted what seemed to be the ruins. They were surrounded by arches similar to those by the Earth Stone, and there was a greenish-grey beam of light spiraling up from its center. Figuring that was enough to go by, I started on the path up the mountain. As I ascended, the path turned into stone stairs, and the ash turned into snow, and I was soon greeted by a Dragon skeleton by the road. I encountered another dozen as I continued along. Some were strung up in poses whilst others were left to rot. I cringed at them.  
  
I personally disliked killing Dragons overall, and I found that speaking to them was generally more effective than killing them after Alduin's death. It also unsettled me that they were skeletal. Either they were there for years, or something had taken their souls. I figured the former, but on the contrary, a man who claimed be a Dragonborn, who seemed to be an adept Dragonslayer, who managed to leave the beasts as skeletons, and that I never absorbed them... I shivered. I believe it was then I realized that those cultists might have breathed some sanity, after all.  
  
Upon my arrival at the wall of the ruin, I oversaw several men in thick, fur coats chiseling away at the stone arches about the ruin. Among them, there was woman, who called out to them. She hadn't seen me yet, so I watched her from afar to ascertain her motives.   
  
"You must fight against what is controlling you! We must leave this place!" the woman tugged at another's shoulder. "Ysra, can you hear me? You must leave!"  
  
I figured this woman was friendly enough, so I strode down into the plane of the ruin and called out to her. She startled and went straight to her ax.   
  
"You there. What brings you to this place? Why are you here?" I raised my hands in submission as she quickly approached.   
  
"I mean no harm, and I'd ask the same of you. Who are you?" The woman's tense shoulders relaxed a little beneath their spaulders.   
  
"I am Frea, of the Skaal. I'm here to help my people from this curse upon the island." She placed her ax back in its rest. "What are you called, outlander?" I lowered my hands and dusted them off onto my coat.   
  
"Haldis." I huffed. "What's going on here?"  
  
"I am unsure. Something has taken control of most of the people of Solstheim," Frea said softly. "It makes them forget themselves, and work on these horrible creations that corrupt the Stones, the very land itself. My father Storn, the shaman, says Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible." I perked up at that.   
  
"Wait, you know of Miraak?" Visibly confused, she gave me a curt nod. "Well, his man tried to have me killed a few weeks ago." She scowled.   
  
"Then you and I both have reason to see what lies beneath us. Let us go." With that said, Frea started for the Stone and veered to its side for a staircase. "There is nothing more I can do here. The Tree Stone and my friends are beyond my help for now. We need to find a way into the temple below." I jogged to catch up with her.   
  
"You're here alone?"  
  
"There are a few of us left unaffected by this curse. My father protects them in the village," she said as we descended into the ruin. "I fashioned an amulet to guard me against whatever has taken hold of the Skaal, but it is the only one of its kind. If I cannot find a way to save them, then there is no hope for my people." We stopped at a door, and we forced it open to enter.   
  
"What is this place, anyway?" Frea hummed and shut the door behind me before we continued onward.   
  
"Long ago, Miraak tried to take power here, and protect himself in the process."  
  
"From what?"  
  
"Dragons. He turned against them in ancient days, and when he fell vulnerable, they razed this temple to the ground." I fell silent at that before I spoke up in a jest.   
  
"I certainly hope the fools who came after me aren't worshiping the shriveled corpse of this man..." Frea didn't find that amusing.   
  
We were quiet as we traversed deeper into the temple, and then utterly silent as voices sprang up from ahead.  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"I _know_ Telvis' shift isn't over yet..." The hallway had several tributary rooms, and I yanked Frea into one of them before we could be spotted. She gave me a questioning glare, but I only put my finger to my lips. The two speakers, cultists, passed us, blissfully unaware of us, and once they were gone, I stepped back out into the hall.  
  
"Why didn't we go after them?" she hissed.   
  
"I've dealt with those men before. They're not something to be taken lightly," I snapped back. "Besides, we're both tired. We need to keep the fighting to a minimum, alright?" Frea gave me the strangest look, but she shook her head and waved for us to continue. Our subterranean travels landed us in a massive chamber with a ceiling lined with cages. Most of them were filled with skeletons, some put over long-dead torches. Frea wrinkled her nose at one we passed on the way towards the stairs in the middle of the room.  
  
"I do not wish to imagine the kinds of things that happened in this chamber. Who were the poor souls trapped in these cages?" she whispered. I shrugged with a little sigh, and stopped at the stairs. There were more voices.   
  
"Blast," I spat. Frea looked at me, calm as could be.   
  
"There are only three voices." She gazed down into the stairwell. "We'll be fine." She backed away from the stairs, and hid herself just behind the edge of the top step. "We'll wait for them." I nodded and took my place beside her. When the voices made themselves known and their masked faces visible, Frea didn't hesitate to charge in and attack. One who hadn't seen her coming was kicked down the stairs to his death. Another took to me while the third and remaining cultist pursued Frea.   
  
The cultist who took me on hauled his sword off his hip and took a swipe, but I parried with my ax. He geared up for another strike, but before he could, I reeled and slammed the head of my ax into his neck. He fell, and I turned to Frea to see her finish her side of the fight. She sent me a glance with a smirk.   
  
"You fight well enough. Honestly, I took you for a coward!" I laughed a little.   
  
"I get that."  
  
The rest of the temple was fairly quiet. Not many cultists hung around in the deeper sanctums, and we avoided most of them on the way in. However, our luck didn't prosper for long. Just as it got quiet in one hall that stank of decay, I heard the groaning of teeth. Frea didn't hear it, so I stopped her.  
  
"What?" I shushed her.   
  
"I think there are Draugr in here." She quirked a brow.  
  
"Draugr?" she echoed.   
  
"Undead warriors, from another time." Frea still had that skeptical frown, but I didn't care and started shuffling down the hall. "I can't imagine Miraak cared for enough people to have them buried within his fortress unless he could use them for something." Frea sighed and followed me.  
  
The chattering and creaking of grinding teeth echoed all around us. I remained silent, and ensured that Frea didn't rouse any suspicion from the undead roaming the halls. When we came out on the other side of the crypt, we were greeted with an unsightly statue. The room itself was small, making the statue resembling an angler fish's head all the more huge. There was a grate in the floor, under which there was yet another set of stairs. There was lever, perched just at its maw, and Frea nudged me toward it.   
  
"I do not recognize this statuary. We passed by a few of them earlier, but they are becoming more frequent as we get further in," she said to me. "I leave the honor of pulling that handle to you. I do not want to put my hand anywhere near the mouth of that statue." I snickered and fearlessly pulled the lever. The grate squealed open just enough for us to fit down to the staircase, and we descended down ever further. "How much deeper can this be? I had been told that Miraak's power was great, but to have built so large a temple... It cannot be much further now." I nodded to her with a little smile, only to halt in my tracks as I exited the stairwell. There before me, in the chamber ahead, was the skeleton of a Dragon. His wings were drawn up, unfurled, and his claws were splayed out like that of a raptor. It was hanging from the ceiling, and below it, a _Qethsegol.  
  
_ It read:   
  
_**Het ont kriist Miraak wo ahtiir  
ok sahvot ol qah spaan naal  
Deyra fah ok unslaad midun.  
**_  
From what I could translate on the spot (my skills in reading Dovahzul were regrettably rusty), it mentioned Miraak and a relation to the Daedra. I paled. Frea must have seen my worry, for she spoke.   
  
"I had heard Miraak had turned against the Dragon Cult, but to display the remains in such a manner as this..." She looked back at the skeleton. "It is no wonder the dragons razed his temple to the ground. Seeing the remains hung up like trophies must have enraged them to no end." I only hummed. "Come on. We'll continue on-" There was the slamming of a coffin lid hitting the floor nearby, followed by a choking cough and grinding teeth. We both whipped our heads around to look at the newly-opened coffin that stood just to the side of the Wall.   
  
The Draugr within's eyes lit up, and it tentatively stepped out into the light. It uttered something in the old tongue, then shouted the words to Unrelenting Force. I heard it coming at the first word and dove out of the way, but Frea wasn't so quick. She was thrown against the far wall, by where we came in, and slumped to the floor in a silent heap. The Draugr bellowed a strangled cackle and drew its blade from its back. I unhitched my ax from my hip and readied myself. The Draugr studied me for a moment, eyes flicking, jaw twitching, before it screamed and heaved its sword out to the side to swing. I bolted in as it finished gearing up and drove the edge of my ax into its chest.   
  
The Draugr hardly faltered, and it sprang back up from its knees to shove me down to the floor. I scrambled to raise my ax, but the Draugr had its blade over its head. Frea came barreling over and swept her hatchet into the warrior's side. The Draugr shrieked and fell to the ground, and before it could rise again, Frea struck it again and again in the face and chest, even after it stopped screaming. I rose from the floor and pulled her off of the corpse, which was now riddled with wounds and lacerations. Her chest was heaving, jaw clenched, and her ax was still raised. She stared at it with bugged eyes, and when the Draugr twitched, she squeaked and landed one more blow to its skull. When she was finally satisfied, I patted her shoulder.  
  
"I think it's dead, Frea." We looked at each other plainly. I cracked first and grinned, and she snorted a laugh.   
  
Beyond the coffin, there was a door that I opened and passed through. From there, the architecture changed drastically. While the near side was obviously in the old Atmoran-inspired style, the far side was completely different. It wasn't Nord or Meric, I knew that for certain. The walls were iron-wrought and in a random netted pattern. The floor beneath could be seen, and I feared my foot would go through the iron net if I took too heavy of a step. Frea lingered closely to my back as I led the way to a small opening in the hall to reveal a cage, a charred human skeleton, and the dead cinders of a torch.   
  
"It's so quiet now..." I muttered. "You can usually hear the Draugr scream once the others have woken up." Frea tensed and held up her ax.  
  
"I do not suspect that will be the case the further we go. Be on your guard."  
  
The hall bottleneck'd and opened once more into a larger chamber than the first. There was a statue of the fish-like head, blistering flames beneath the iron-wrought floor, and a pedestal in the center. Upon that pedestal was a book that had a length that easily bested a horse's head. Frea hung back in the bottleneck as I approached the book.  
  
"That book... It's... It feels _wrong_..." I reached my hand out to it. "Well, don't touch it!" I ignored her.  
  
"It might be what we're looking for." My fingers brushed the cover, and I peeled it up. The book, as if possessed, recoiled from its pedestal, flipped itself open, and extended several black tendrils from its pages. Before I could react at all, those limbs grabbed my face, wrapped around my neck, and smashed my face into the pages. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Qethsegol means "Word Wall" (where you get Shouts)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave critique so I can improve my writing, it would be much appreciated!


	3. Annnd the Villain is Introduced. Woohoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Kudos ;-:  
> Makes mama happy

I succumbed in that dark book's pages, and when I woke, I was in a place nothing like the ruins. Frea wasn't there, but several hideous beasts, a dragon, and a man replaced her, surrounded by an ocean as black as ink. I was too weak to move, too sick, so I lay sprawled upon the cold floor and gazed up as the man strode over to me.   
  
"Who are you to dare set foot here, mortal!?" The tall man stood over me, his gilded boot just inches from my nose, and he crouched. I couldn't see his face, for he wore a mask reminiscent of the unsightly creatures in the background. "Answer me, woman." I only scowled. There was a little breath he let out, then, almost a gasp, and he gripped my chin in his gloved fingers. "You're... You're Dragonborn, aren't you?" It was then that I remembered that lovely voice, the one that spoke to me from the Earth Stone. That was him. I swallowed thickly.  
  
"I am...What about it?" I forced myself to answer. He purred, as if in approval, and he stroked his thumb over the cut on my cheek. He then tightened his grip upon my face.   
  
  
"You are Dragonborn, and yet you have done little beyond killing a few dragons. I can feel it." I scowled at him.   
  
"I... I've done more than you think. Didn't you hear about the World-Eater?" He scoffed.  
  
"Of course, all of Aetherius knows." He dropped my head from his hand and wiped it off onto his robes. "I could have done it myself, back when I walked the earth, but _I_ chose a different path." He stood and shook his own with a throaty chuckle."You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield!" He then shouted in words I fought to take note of, _Mul Qah Diiv,_ and he was wreathed in blue and golden light that resembled a Dragon's form. "This realm is beyond you. You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine." He turned on his heel and didn't even look back at me as he sauntered to the Dragon that lingered by the water. "I already control the minds of her people. Soon, they will finish repairing my temple, and I can return home." He halted and pointed to one of the monsters nearby. "You. Send her back to whence she came. She can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel."   
  
He mounted the Dragon, who bowed his head so his rider could climb on with ease, and they took off, leaving me with the creature.   
  
_Haldis.  
Haldis!  
  
"Haldis! _Are you alright?" I opened my eyes to see five Frea's in front of me, shaking me. I haphazardly grabbed her shoulders to make her stop, and the five faces combined into one. I blinked until the thickness was gone from my eyes and stared at her with my mouth agape.   
  
"What-"  
  
"That book, i-it _grabbed_ you!" she fussed, her grip on my shoulders still tight. "I _knew_ there was something wrong with it!" I coughed and straightened myself. "What happened?" I rubbed my face.  
  
"I don't know, but... I wasn't here," I responded slowly. "I think I saw him." Frea's eyebrows went up to her hairline.   
  
"You saw Miraak? Where is he? Can we reach him? Can we kill him?" I held my hands up to quiet her.   
  
"Look, as much as I love your enthusiasm, I don't know what in the world I saw, but somehow, that book took me to him. I don't think he was in Skyrim, though." Frea frowned and tapped her temple.   
  
"This is a dangerous thing, then. We should return to my village, and show this to my father." She stood and helped me to my feet after she took the book from me. "Perhaps Storn can make sense of what is going on." She gestured to a doorway behind the pedestal. "Come, there looks to be a way out through here." I released her hand to stand on my own, only to fall back onto her when my legs wobbled. "Are you alright? Can you walk?" I nodded and remained still for a moment as I leaned on her.   
  
"Yes, I'm just... dizzy." Frea looped my arm over her shoulder and guided me along the hallway beyond the pedestal. At the end of the hallway, there was an opening that led out to the edge of a cliff. Below that, there was a path. "Does any of the scenery look familiar to you, Frea?" Frea huffed and gazed out at the mountainous landscape. She then pointed out towards a green spire in the near distance.   
  
"That's the Wind Stone." She let me go upon my prompting and started climbing down the rocks. "We're only a few miles from my village." She extended her hand to me, and I took it. Once I got down from the ledge, we started down the path at the foot of the short crag. Frea's home stood a few miles from where we emerged. At the center of the little town, three men were sitting cross-legged in the snow. Frea went for one, calling out to him, while I caught up.   
  
"Father! I have returned! There is yet hope!" The man she called for perked his head up from under his hood.  
  
"Frea!" he rasped with a little smile, his eyes hidden. "What news do you bring? Is there a way to free our people?" Frea crouched beside him so she could speak to him.  
  
"No, but I have brought someone who has seen things..." she replied as she bobbed her head to me. "She has confirmed that Miraak is indeed behind the suffering of our people." The old man's face wrinkled a little, and he uttered something to the others in his circle. They nodded, and he stood up to look to a little cabin some distance from the clearing.  
  
"Come with me. We shall speak in my home." He peeled his hood back and put his bony hands together as he beheld me. "I would not like to worry the others until I have a definitive explanation of what you two found." He looked at Frea. "Frea, dear, take my place while I speak with your friend." Frea nodded, and he led me out of the clearing, and once we were inside his home, he continued. "So, you have seen things, hm? Time is short. Tell me what you know, outlander." I scratched the back of my neck.   
  
"I don't know much, I'm afraid," I answered, having shut the door behind me. "I saw Miraak, after I ran into your daughter." His dark eyes widened a little, and he shuffled toward the cold hearth in the center of the cabin.   
  
"I feared he was behind this, but I hoped I was wrong..." he coughed in to his arm and sat down on the floor. "Come, sit." I settled myself per his urging across from him at the hearth. "How did you see him?" I opened my bag and brought out the hefty book I found in the temple.  
  
"I found this book in the ruins. When I read it, it took me some place else, and I met him. I don't know where, but he can't be on the island." The man nodded.  
  
"The legends speak of that place. Terrible battles fought at the fortress. The dragons burning it to the ground in rage." He paused to think, and his grimace darkened. "They speak also of something worse than dragons buried within. Difficult to imagine, but if true..." I slouched.  
  
"Do you have any clue of what this all could mean?" The old man hummed a little in thought, and he shakily reached for a bottle beside the hearth's stone frame.   
  
"It means what I feared has come to pass. Miraak was never truly gone, and now has returned." He poured the bottle's contents onto the charred logs in the pit, then grabbed a stone and a chunk of steel. "If you could go to this place and see him... Are you Dragonborn?" He struck the steel with the stone until sparks flew upon the liquor-soaked wood.   
  
"I am." The sparks became flames, and he set his tools down.   
  
"Then perhaps you two are connected, somehow. The old legends say that he is Dragonborn, as well." I let out a heavy breath.  
  
"Then... what could it mean if we are similar?" The old man smirked.   
  
"You didn't think you were the only one, did you?" I stared into the flames when he said that. "I believe it could mean you could either save us, or destroy us. Either way, the few of us free from control here have little time left. You must go to Searing's Watch. Learn there the word that Miraak learned long ago, and use that knowledge on the Wind Stone. You may be able to break the hold on our people there, and free them from control." I looked up to him, puzzled.   
  
"A _Thu'um?_ Why would I need to learn a Shout?"   
  
"Miraak is behind what is happening to our island, and so the knowledge he has gained as Dragonborn is at the heart of it," he murmured. "You are Dragonborn as well. You too can wield this power, perhaps to a better end, hm?" I scratched at the scabbing gash on my cheek, which itched as it healed.   
  
"What else do you know of him? Frea said he served the Dragons in ancient times." The old man shrugged, and stoked the flames with an iron rod he had at his side.   
  
"Much of what was known has been lost to the ages. He was Dragonborn, and yet he served the Dragons. A priest in their order, highly esteemed and very powerful. Then he turned against them, becoming something they feared. He was defeated long ago, but it seems he was never destroyed."   
  
"A Dragonborn... _Dragon Priest._ Talk about an oxymoron!" I jested. The old man smiled and rasped a hoarse laugh.   
  
"Indeed."  
  
Frea's father, whose name was Storn, gave me a map of the area and sent me on my way to Searing's Watch, a ruin in the mountains some miles north from Miraak's fortress. The place was high up in the mountains, overlooking the sea and the Morrowind landscape to the east. While the tundra wasn't bagged down by ash, I could still see the Red Mountain flaring from Vvardenfell.   
  
I stopped at the edge of the ruin when I arrived a few days later. Storn was kind enough to give me a few days' worth of dried meats, so I had enough to stop and rest. I'm glad I did stop, as well, for a Dragon who made his roost upon the peak of the mountain made himself known, and perched upon the Qethsegol that I was eyeing. I watched from the little crevice I squeezed myself into for shelter, and I took a bite of jerky from my stash.   
  
_A Dragonborn who served the Dragons..._ I mused as I ate my small dinner. Storn stated that Miraak was somehow defeated and had his fortress destroyed, but never knew how the old boy was subdued, or how he was still alive after so long. The book was also a mystery, though Storn mentioned he would try to contact a Dunmer whom had inquired about something similar before. I figured on heading into the ashlands for him, once I was done with Searing's Watch.   
  
The following morning, I ascended to the peak of Searing's Watch. The Dragon saw me coming, and he bared his teeth at me when I crossed the gate into the main clearing.   
_  
_**_"Hi ni lost meyz, joor,"_ **he bellowed from his perch. I cleared my throat. _(Thou (ought'st) not to have come here, mortal)_  
  
 _"Zu'u Dovahkiin, kriid se Alduin."_ The Dragon snarled. _"Bo." (I am Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin. Begone)_  
  
 ** _"Dovah mindok wo hi los. Fah fos los hi het, Dovahkiin?"_** _(This one knows who thou art. For what hither art thou, Dragonborn?)  
  
"Zu'u laan Rotmulaag hi dein." (I want the word (of power) you guard) _The Dragon lowered his head, and he clambered down from the wall.   
  
_**"Vos hi vahraan mii med smahlu, nunon med faal Vax?"** ((and) let you treat us as sheep, just as the Traitor did?) _Smoke billowed from his nostrils, and he opened his mouth to let it undulate from his teeth. I tensed as he drew closer, and I put my hand to my ax. The Dragon saw this, and he narrowed his eyes. _"Yol..."_ I dove under him just as a plume of flame bore down into the snow.   
  
The Dragon roared and backed up to try and grab me in his fangs, but couldn't reach me as I stuck to his hind end. He spun about on his heels, and as he did so, I grabbed onto a split plate on his belly and slammed my ax into it. He screamed and thrashed, and I was thrown from where I clung to him. He stamped his feet, and I rolled out of his way. He ducked his head beneath his legs and took a bite. I grabbed his face, and when he lifted his head back up, I went with him, and I grabbed onto a horn before I could be hurled again.   
  
The Dragon paused in his struggles for a brief moment, tired, so I geared up to strike. He felt it, and he started to buck and Shout and swear, golden flames spewing from his maw as I fought to hold on. I finally decided to try my luck when he faltered again, and I struck him between the eyes. His scales cracked, and I hit him again. Then came the blood. The Dragon screamed and threw himself down to the ground and rolled. With the angle on my side, I hit twice more until blood sprayed from his forehead. The Dragon straightened himself, shook his head once more, then eyed the Qethsegol. I jolted, and he charged. I let go of the horn to which I clung, fell from the beast's face, and rolled into the snow. The Dragon couldn't stop himself, and he rammed head-on into the stone wall. He remained rigid, as if frozen or nailed to the wall, trembling. Blood streamed down his face and into the cracks he left in the inscriptions.   
  
He leaned, then fell. He didn't move to get up, for shattered bone revealed itself in the wound I carved into him, but his sides were still heaving, and he groaned. I brushed myself off and came striding over to finish the job with a few whacks of my hatchet. When the beast finally died, I could feel his influence was still there, for my body naturally sought to absorb him, but I neglected to acknowledge it and blocked it out. As much as I hated killing Dragons, I hated taking in their souls even more. I never knew why, but it always felt... unnecessary. The Greybeards taught me their meditation techniques for a lack of Dragons when I was young, that killing Dragons wasn't needed to learn _Rotmulaagge._ It was a slower process, but it was enough.  
  
I lifted my ax to clean it of the blood that smothered it with a sigh.   
  
"You do not use your Voice against them?" I gasped, and I whipped around on my heel to behold _him_. He bested my own height by two heads, though I never noticed when I first met him, given I was on the ground at the time. He was dressed in baggy, shredded robes of a dark, sickly green, with spaulders in the abstracted shapes of Dragons heads. While those clothes were loose, and his belt showed a void in his gut, I didn't think for a second that he was weak. He had the broad shoulders and long limbs of a Nord, but I couldn't see his face. His mask, glinting in the silvery cast of light, resembled a mass of symmetrically grown tentacles with two slits out of which he would see. His arms were folded, and he shook is head. "Do you even know how to use your gift?"  
  
"Of course I do," I shot back when I found my voice. "What are you- How are you here? I didn't see you before-" He held his hand up.   
  
_"Nahlot_ ," _(Silence)_ he murmured. That word, that single gravelly word was all it took. It was only then I noticed his accent; Nordic, but not quite, and hoarse, as he'd gone days in silence. I shut my mouth. He turned his head to look at the fallen Dragon. "You didn't even take of his soul." He scoffed. With my composure regained and my words found, I scowled at him.   
  
"So what if I don't?" Miraak tilted his head, then, like a cat.   
  
"Well, then, I thank you for your charity." I was about to ask him what he meant, but then I heard the crackling. The Dragon's scales went up in flames, and the rainbow of spiritual essencense wrapped themselves around him in a flash of bright light. My gut wrenched. "It takes a strong will to command a Dragon's soul. Perhaps you aren't as powerful as you think, _mal Dovah._ " _(smol derg)_  
  
Then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm not going to learn Dovahzul for accurate translations lol  
> Sorry in advance that they aren't accurate


	4. Strangulation Is A Kink, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhhhhhh I didn't think I was gonna post this but I got so bored ehhhhh. I had used this in some one-off scene I wrote because the idea wouldn't leave me be, and I actually really liked it and really wanted to use it so here

I briskly left Searing's Watch after I saw him and learned the word, _Gol_ , still shaken. _Still wary_. He took a Dragon's soul when I refused it. That was enough to prove to me that he wasn't just a poser, that his followers spoke the truth. I wasn't scared, but I wasn't at ease. Either way, I wasn't eager to meet him again any time soon. And how he pointed out that I hadn't used my Thu'um on that Dragon unsettled me even more. I knew my Voice was weak, for I rarely consumed those souls. I never found reason to use my Voice outside of emergency situations, like what happened with the Cultists in Falkreath.   
  
As I traversed across the mountain, I decided to put my foot down. I had to put my pacifism aside for this. My fight with Alduin was the first sign that I was weak, but I never took it to heart because I never expected to have to live up to that expectation again. Alduin nearly took my life in those battles with him. The only reason I survived was because of those in Sovngarde who helped me, and that I had such a strong understanding of Dragonrend.   
  
I stopped during the night, some distance to the southwest to the ruin, in a collapsing shack on the side of the path. It was dark, silent, and cold. I kicked a few pieces of wood left untouched by the blizzard into a pile and whispered _"Yol._ " A stream of fire spilled from my lips onto the wood, and it lit up the shack warmly. I set myself down before it and nestled into the coat I had over my shoulders. My stomach ached emptily, and I reached for my bag for my dried provisions.  
  
"It's evil!" I startled and squeaked, not having expected an answer, and smothered my fire with snow before I looked outside. There was a man prancing about, naked as the day he was born, with a book in his arms, his mouth wide open as he shrieked like a wispmother. I jumped to my feet and stared at him, silent as death. He threw the book down into the snow and began beating it with his fists. "Evil! Evil! Evil!"  
  
I stepped out into the light, and he stopped hitting the book and looked to me.   
  
"Are you alright?" I called. He heaved thick, raspy breaths, and he stood up.   
  
"I... I know things, things I ain't supposed to know." He started walking towards me, and I backed up.   
  
"Now, slow down, what're you talking about?" He ground his teeth so loudly, I heard his jaw pop. His fingers flexed, and he stopped in his tracks. I could see now that his feet were black from frostbite, and his fingers were white and waxy; not far behind.   
  
"They're in my head." I gave him a strange look. He threw his hands up over his head. "They're in my head. The secrets. They're in my head, don't you believe me?!" I clenched my fists and looked away from him.   
  
"Secrets? What kinds of secrets?" He strained, and he let out a wet gasp, like a fish languishing on the deck.   
  
"Y-you know, the-the secret kind!" He pointed to the book. "Keep away from that thing. It'll shove its secrets in there. I can't get them out, my fingers are too short. I can't get them out!"   
  
"The book-"  
  
"The Black Book!" I looked at the book, then back into the shack.   
  
"...Where'd you find this book?" The man grabbed his own hair and yanked it out with a scream.  
  
"I CAN'T GET THEM OUT!" He fell to his knees, then to his face, and he moved no more. I gawked at him with my mouth dumbly agape, and when he made no attempt to get back up, I moved over to him and nudged him with my foot. He didn't move. I crouched and gingerly put my fingers under the curve of his jaw. No pulse. I brought my eyes up to the book he'd thrown, and I trudged over to it.   
  
It was already frosty and layered in snow, and when I brushed it off after picking it up, it revealed a tattered cover depicting a tendril'd mass. I gazed back over at the shack, then at the body, then at the book. I sighed, and I made my way back over to the shack, the book in my arms. I barely managed to stuff both books into the bag, and one of the seams ripped, to which I cursed.   
  
I didn't sleep.  
  
I found my way back to the Skaal village by sunset the day following the next. I was greeted by Frea, who took me to the Wind Stone that stood a mile or so from the town.   
  
"My father says this Shout has the ability to bend will," she said. "His theory is that, when you use your Voice on the shrines, they will be freed from control, and the land will heal itself." I followed closely behind her, along the bridge over the ravine that split through the forest.  
  
"What if it doesn't work?" Frea took a long time to answer.   
  
"Right now, there is no way to stop what's happening." She stopped to look out at the Stone just a few meters down the path. "Our working theory is to slow the spread so we have time to find a solution. We are hoping this will work. There is no way to know unless we try." I nodded, and I led the way down to the shrine.   
  
A dozen men and women in Skaal coats were toiling about by the shrine, mumbling the mantra uttered to me by their master. I halted before the green haze that enveloped the Stone, my boots soaked in the black ooze that pooled around it, and I uttered the Word _"GOL"_ to it. At first, there was nothing, but then there came the crackling. I looked up when a piece of ash fell on my shoulder, and saw the shrine crumbling. The arches fell and dissolved into the snow, and I looked back at Frea. She was beaming, and she gazed out at the Skaal. They didn't react immediately, but they started to cease their mutterings.   
  
Some of them looked at each other, others up at the Stone, and others at me.   
  
The ground trembled, and I stumbled back out of the black water. A thick, clawed arm reached out of the ink, and it hauled itself up to reveal a hideous fish-like face that resembled the statues in Miraak's fortress. Before it could fully unveil itself, I grabbed up my ax and started slamming it into its head. It screamed and ducked away from my blows to rise fully.   
  
Its height rivaled that of a giant. Black blood spurted from the creature's head wound. I went to fall back, and it staggered after me, but it didn't make it far, and it collapsed into the snow with a groan. I stared at it, poked it. It didn't move.   
  
"Haldis, what is that?" I looked to Frea, and I shrugged with a wry frown. Everything was silent. We guided the townsfolk back to the village after we ensured everyone was alright after the cleansing. Storn remained where he sat in the snow, but I found him looking for us from there upon our return. Those we freed scurried into their homes, leaving the clearing empty and silent.   
  
"You cleansed it. I can feel it." I knelt in the snow so he wouldn't have to get up.   
  
"I guess I did. What happens now?"  
  
"The power of the Stone had been corrupted. It was the source of the influence that had taken control of the Skaal," he explained slowly. "Freeing the other Stones will diminish the whatever dark influence is spreading across Solstheim." I cringed.  
  
" _Other Stones?"_ I echoed. Storn nodded.   
  
"Yes. There are six sacred Stones – Wind, Water, Earth, Beast, Sun, and Tree. Through them the Oneness of the land is maintained," he said. "Frea saw that the Tree Stone stands imprisoned in Miraak's temple. I doubt you can free it until his power is broken. But you may be able to cleanse the other Stones. Even if this does not stop Miraak, it surely will delay his return." I sighed, and I patted my bag.   
  
"Well, if it's necessary, I will certainly deal with it, but..." Storn raised his brows.   
  
"But?"   
  
"I'll deal with the Stones, but I need help, too," I told him quickly. He was quiet and nodded for me to continue. "I need to get on even ground with Miraak." He cocked his head.   
  
"But you are Dragonborn. You can Shout." I opened my bag to give him a glimpse of my books.   
  
"I found another book near Searing's Watch. I have a feeling Miraak drew his power from these." I closed my bag. "I'm going to need a safe place to work with these." Storn and Frea looked at each other.  
  
"You are not opening those vile books in our village, Haldis," Frea snapped. Storn held up his hand.   
  
"Hush, Frea," he said. "We can all agree that bringing those books into this village is one thing, and that reading them here is entirely inappropriate." I deflated, and he continued. "However, there is a wizard on the island, some miles to the southeast, in the ash. His name is Neloth, and he came here inquiring about something similar."   
  
"Should I go to him?"   
  
"It is all I can suggest. Perhaps he can help you with your search, if you would seek such... trifles."   
  
Storn and Frea let me sleep in their home that night, but they made me lock the books within a box before bed. Fair enough. I laid on the floor by the hearth whilst they slept in their beds in the next room. I couldn't sleep, so I sat up and stared into the smoldering flames. My Voice was weak, I knew it. I didn't really need to see Miraak's own abilities to know, for I never consumed Dragon souls, except for on rare occasions. I was going to have to set aside my own morals and actually fight aggressive Dragons until I could clear up this mess, but finding Dragons was difficult. There weren't many. Those "Black Books" were my only chance, even if I didn't understand them.   
  
I set off from the village two days later for "Tel Mithryn," a tower in the ashlands occupied by a Telvanni wizard. The trip was thankfully short, for the ashlands were flattened, and the trip there only took about a day and a half. Upon catching sight of the tower, I was promptly greeted by an ashen beast attacking two young Dunmer, though it had been subdued by the time I had rushed to help. When the dust quite literally cleared, it was shown that one of them, a woman, had been killed in the fray.   
  
The other Dunmer, a mage named Talvas, the one who disposed of the spawn, pointed me to a ... well, a colossal mushroom that had grown out of the ash. It overlooked the sea and the Red Mountain in the far distance. I entered, but before I could have a look around or call out a greeting, I was whisked up from the floor up the length of the tower. I screamed, and I was thrown onto a deck with a force that knocked the wind out of me.   
  
"Talvas! Was that you?" I looked up for the source of that nasally voice with a scowl. An old Dunmer came into my view from behind the ropes around the shaft as I struggled to sit up. "I said it once, and I will say it again; do not bother me when I am-" He stopped and stared at me. His dark, arched brow knitted and his thin lips twisted up into a snarl. "I don't recall inviting you into my home. Explain yourself, outlander."   
  
I staggered to my feet, smoothed my hair back, and set my shoulders straight.   
  
"Are you the Telvanni wizard, Neloth?" He crossed his arms and cocked his head.   
  
"Speaking," he responded sharply. "Why have you interrupted my research with your uncorked shame?" I was about to retort with something harsh, but I took a breath to restrain myself before I replied.   
  
"Well, the Skaal told me you know a good deal about these 'Black Books' I found." I slung my bag off of my shoulder to open it and show him my books. "I was hoping you could help me read one." Neloth pursed his lips.   
  
"You seek out the knowledge of old Hermaeus Mora?" I paled. "Oh, and you tried to read that thing on your own, too, didn't you?"  
  
"These... are of the Daedric Prince of Knowledge?" I asked slowly. Neloth looked over his nails.   
  
"Oh, you did not know?" he asked. "I thought it was obvious, outlander. Hermaeus Mora has always tried to seduce mortals into his service with the lure of forbidden knowledge. The books themselves serve as portals to his realm." I sighed. That explained a lot.  
  
"Well, regardless of what their origins are, I need them so I can know what Miraak knows, so I can keep him out of Solstheim." Neloth squinted.   
  
" _Miraak?_ The one the townsfolk are always chanting about?" My lips pressed together.   
  
"Yes. You may have noticed what he's been doing to Solstheim's _lovely_ inhabitants."   
  
"Well, I knew something connected with Hermaeus Mora was spreading its influence across the island," he said as he turned his back to me, as if bored by my presence. "I wasn't sure that it was in fact the same deity as this legendary namesake of the central temple." He snorted. " _Although..._ the villagers seem quite convinced." I sulked as his eyes faced away from me.  
  
"Look, I need help with reading these things, and if not, then I need help finding more." Neloth shrugged.   
  
"I _suppose_ I could help you. They're not hard to locate once you know how to look for them, you know. I have one here that I have been using to locate more." I paused in my tracks.  
  
"You... have a Black Book... _here_?"   
  
"Yes, I've been using it to look into what's happening on the island, but what makes you think I'll help you at all?" I deflated. He must have seen that, for he stopped his idling and turned to look at me fully with a roll of his reddened eyes. "You can't have something for nothing, outlander. What do you offer in return?" I huffed, and I lifted both out of the bag with a grunt.  
  
"If you help me with this one that I just found the other day, I'll let you keep both of mine when I'm done," I strained. Neloth stroked his beard tentatively, his face contorting with mixed emotion, before he finally shrugged.   
  
"Fair enough, outlander. I have nothing especially important on my schedule today, so I will compromise for you." He spun on his heel and marched toward a room some meters from the tower's shaft.   
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."  
  
"You're going to read that book, I will watch as you do so, and I will take the book when you are finished. Is that not what we agreed?" he stated promptly without stopping. I jogged up behind him to keep up with him.   
  
"Yes, but... now?" Neloth stopped at the doorway and glared at me with those red eyes.   
  
"Yes, _now_. You are encroaching on my time after barging into my home, after all." He pointed into the room. "You ready yourself for reading in here whilst I gather my books." I swallowed thickly and nodded, and when he strode out of the room, I sighed and set my books down in wait for him to return. I watched him descend the stairless tower (with much more grace than my ascent, might I add). There was a yell, followed by silence, and he and Talvas showed themselves some moments later. Talvas had a hole singed into his shirt, and Neloth's hands were still sparking with golden magicka when they appeared.   
  
"Talvas, you are going to Raven Rock tomorrow morning to search for a new steward. Do you understand me, boy?" He shoved Talvas away from the door when the young Dunmer gave him an acknowledgement. Neloth shut the door at his back when Talvas' sobbing quieted, and he eased himself down upon a chair by the door. He pointed the book with the quill he had threaded between his fingers. "Well, outlander, are you going to read?" I jolted and grabbed my most recent addition. "Tell me the title."  
  
_"_ I-It's called..." I flipped to the first page. " _The Sallow Regent,_ sir." Neloth wrote that down in his notepad.   
  
"Read me the first page." I cleared my throat.  
  
"Act I, Scene I (Enter Filemina, with broken sceptre) Woe betide my fate-wrecked heart, Which gives no tender shine to he, Who gave his favors up to gods, And brought his blood-struck mind to-" The Book spasmed and black tendrils flung out of its pages to grab my face. I started screaming and tried to tear the book off of my face.   
  
"Are you in any pain, outlander?" I heard Neloth ask. Even in my breathless terror, I knew he didn't care, but it didn't occur to me until after my sight faded to black. I awoke some time later in complete darkness. The only light there was the arachnid light above my head. I felt sick, and my gut lurched a little, but I didn't allow anything to come up. I hauled myself up to my feet, and I quickly took in my surroundings. I squinted, trying to pry away from the darkness the faintest strand of light, but I came up short.   
  
After a brief moment of consideration, I figured there was no harm in the dark, and I took a step into the blackness, only to recoil with a yelp and stumble back into the light. My toes throbbed with the stinging numbness of frostnip, and I massaged them with my fingers under my boot.   
  
"What in Oblivion?" I uttered, and I stretched my hand out into the shadows to confirm, only to recoil with a pained hiss. I flexed my fingers with a grimace. "How am I supposed to..." I paused. There was a sound, but I didn't know what it was in my frustration. Aught like a scraping. I tensed, and I gripped my ax's handle to ready myself. Then came the steps. Each one came closer than the last with each passing second. I backed up to the end of the light furthest from the sounds' source.   
  
Then it stopped, and was replaced by that lovely voice.   
  
" _Zu'u drey ni morah koraav hi grik das..." (I did not think to see you again so soon)_ I deftly drew up my ax and stared out into the pitch.   
  
_"Koraav hi so Zu'u! Zu'u ni faas!" (Reveal yourself to me! I am not afraid!)_ Just as I ended that statement, the toe of a gilded boot showed itself in the light. That, in turn, revealed a tall form clad in tattered robes with broad shoulders, and was given a face by a golden mask. All the metal of his garb was dutifully polished, as if cleaned daily, in spite of the poor condition of his robes. He let out a chuff as he observed me trembling in my breeches.   
  
"So, you do speak our tongue," he rumbled. Damn that voice to Oblivion. My grip tightened so much on my ax that my knuckles cracked. He snorted. "You may sheathe your weapon, _mal Dovahkiin_. I have no intention of harming you, only civil discussion." I scowled at him. He huffed, and he held up a hand, in which he conjured a small flame. "The darkness only hurts the outsider who lacks a light." I glanced up at the light above me, then back at him, who stood patiently with his unlit hand extended.   
  
Gods above know what made me take his hand.   
  
His grip was cold and firm, but not forceful, for when he gripped my wrist in his fingers, they scarcely squeezed, but made their point, all the same. He guided me along a pitch black hall, the only light at all the tiny flame in his palm. His grip never intensified upon me since he led me so silently from the lamp. His steps made hardly a sound.   
  
"What are your goals in coming here?"   
  
"I think we both know what my goals are." He let out a soft grumble.   
  
"It is not every century our good lord brings some other poor fool in here," he said slowly. "And a fellow _Dovahkiin,_ no less."   
  
"I came here by my own will." He snickered. "Does my answer amuse you?" He shook his head.   
  
" _That_ is exactly what I said to Hermaeus Mora all those years ago when I found _Waking Dreams_." I had no answer, for some hissing sound echoed throughout the hall. My hands gripped his arm tightly. He didn't tense at all. "'Tis just the Seekers, Haldis. There is no reason to be afraid." I raised a brow.   
  
"I don't believe I ever told you my name."  
  
"I have approximate knowledge of many things," he purred. "For example, I know your father abandoned you with the Greybeards when you were a little girl." I lost my hold on him. He stopped in his tracks to look at me. "Is there a problem, Haldis?" I had to take a breath to compose myself.   
  
"You don't know that." He puffed hollowly behind that mask, and in spite of my inability to see his face, I could feel the smirk he sent me.   
  
"Do you have any idea of where you are at the moment, m'lady?" I snarled.  
  
"I don't."   
  
"This is Apocrypha, the most expansive library in existence wherein every piece of written information appears. Befitting for the Daedra of knowledge, hm?" He reached into his robes. "You can understand I have been unbelievably bored for the past millennia or four, trapped up in here. When I saw you appear in my chambers, I just _had_ do a little reading." He pulled his hand out of his robe to reveal a shredded, yellowed journal, bound by leather and rotted stitching. "Pray, tell me if your own hand wrote inaccurate information." I snatched it out of his grip and flipped through it to ascertain, and sure enough, its contents were in my younger handwriting. When my own words came back to me from all that time ago, I gritted my teeth.  
  
"He didn't abandon me there, he left me there to protect all involved," was all I could get out.   
  
"You keep telling yourself that, and yet both the book and your demeanor suggest otherwise." I threw my old journal to the ground and jumped up to get in his face, even though I barely rose up to his chest.  
  
"You don't know anything about me! I don't care _who_ you think you are or what you're trying to do, but I won't let you make a fool out of me!" Miraak was silent, and I hated that. "Don't you have anything to say?" He grumbled something, but before I could even process it, he snapped a hand up to grab my face.  
  
"You'd best watch your tone with me, _mal Dovahkiin_." His voice was a whisper I could barely hear. I was shaking and a bead of sweat formed on my brow, but I didn't admit to him nor myself that I was afraid. I uttered the first word of Unrelenting Force under my breath, just barely restrained enough to shove him back a step. He regained his composure instantly, and he brought his hidden eyes up to look at me with a feline tilt of his head. The flame he held suddenly went out, hurling me into the deathly cold. I let out a hoarse screech of pain and fell to my knees, only to be shoved up to the wall by a strong hand about my neck.   
  
That magefire reappeared. His mask was absent from his sickly pale face, and he was lacking inclination to put it back on, leaving only his hood and the bandages over his eyes to hide him. All around his lips were stitch-like scars, and on his chin was silver-blonde scruff. The skin of his neck and chest was mostly covered, but what little that could be seen was stretched and wrinkled; burns, from a time long passed.   
  
He yanked me up to his height and he brought himself to my ear.   
  
"Listen to me, you senseless girl." My gasps went silent so he could speak. I inhaled to gear up for Unrelenting Force, but his lethal grip forced it back down. "Oblivion... is no place for you." I bucked and thrashed, my vision whitening, and I clenched a fist and smashed it into his face. He dropped me with a wheeze, and the fire went out again, but I was too dazed to notice the burning. The fire appeared once more to show his hand clasped over a black-blooded nosebleed.   
  
I crammed myself up against the wall from my spot on the floor, trying to become one with the wall as my adversary recovered. He swept the blood from his face with his sleeve, and he turned blindly to look at me.   
  
His chest was heaving, smoke was billowing out of his nose. His lips parted. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the molten doom that would surely come upon his Voice, but nothing came of it, save for his breathing, which was starting to calm. He puffed the very semblance of a laugh. He knelt down in front of me, and I tried to fight against the ache in my throat, but failed, and thick tears streamed down my face as I loudly sobbed.   
  
He shook his head with a groan, and he cast a magelight over me.   
  
"You... nuisance..." he mumbled. "To think she slew the Akatosh's firstborn son..." He pressed a hand to my shoulder so I would look at him. "I had no quarell with you, but if you stand in my way, well... Do not think for a second that I won't end you, just because we are alike." When I had nothing to say, he curled his lip, stood up, and walked off, into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mal Dovahkiin" just means "Little Dragonborn," considering Haldis is five-foot-two-inches. (seriously puny for a Nord, and those Atmorans get fuckin tall yo)  
> Miraak's voice weakens me, don't judge me  
> Also, Neloth is the fuckin GOAT, he's the funniest character I've ever dealt with in a video game


	5. Mama is back yo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for abandoning this, BUT DAMMIT I WILL FINISH IT I PROMISE
> 
> I’m taking a break with Fallout 4 for now, and I’m gonna try and work with Skyrim for a while
> 
> THANKS FOR BEING SO PATIENT

It must have been an hour that I spent on that floor before I finally stopped crying. The magelight was starting to burn out. Not eager to freeze to death, I scrambled to my feet, grabbed my book and satchel, and looked up and down the hall. There was a faint light in the near distance, just down the pitch black tunnel. I then looked up at the quickly waning magelight. I took a step. It followed me. 

I puffed in disbelief, then started sprinting down the hall. I could hear scratching nearby, scuffing, the signature squeaks of boots walking along the floor. My heart raced faster. The magelight was almost gone. The sounds grew closer. I had no idea if it was him or one of those "Seekers" of which he spoke, but I knew well either were likely to kill me, in any case. 

The distant light came closer. I hit the edge of the light just as the magelight burned out. Frostnip burned at my heels, but was as quick to fizzle out as the artificial light. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly scanned my surroundings. It was a small chamber that overlooked Apocrypha's ocean, and upon a podium in its center was a massive book. I stalked over to it, hesitant, and placed my fingers upon the cover. Just as my skin made contact, I heard a deep, rumbling snicker echo from all around me. I whipped around in every direction in search of the source, only to be greeted with a grotesque mass of eyes and tendrils. I stepped back against the book and prepared myself to open it, but stopped at the command of the creature. 

"Ah, good tidings to you, Dragonborn… Welcome to Apocrypha." 

"I… What?" was all I could force out. The demon chortled, and his eldritch limbs wrapped themselves around the platform, like a kraken. 

"I am Hermeaus Mora, Knower of the Unknown," it slurred. "All seekers of knowledge come to my realm, sooner or later." My face's color drained, but I took a deep breath, and I stood up with my shoulders back. 

"I have no quarrel with you. I'm here to deal with Miraak." Mora audibly snorted, and the center ocular mass came within inches of my face. I fought every urge to flinch. 

"Your efforts to evade me are all in vain, child." An idle tendril flicked from the center mass to prod my face. "You could search my library for a hundred lifetimes, and you would never find that which you seek. All that Miraak knows, he has learned from me, personally." I raised a brow. "For a fair price, I would be willing to… hmm… let a few words slip on your behalf…" I puffed. 

"What's your price, then, for Miraak's Thu'um?" Mora growled giddily, and his many eyes turned upward.

"Knowledge for knowledge, child. The Skaal have kept their secrets from me for many long years… The time has come for that knowledge to be added to my library." I nodded slowly, squinting. 

"Alright, assuming that I'm agreeing to this… Why are you helping me? Miraak's your champion, isn't he?" Mora's tendrils collectively flicked like a curious cat's tail.

"He has served me long and well, but he grows restless under my guidance. His desire to return to your world will spread my influence more widely…" He paused. "but it will also set him free from my direct control. It may be time to replace him with a more loyal servant... One who appreciates the gifts I have to offer." 

"If you're so quick to stab him in the back like this, how am I supposed to trust you?"

"My word is as true as fate, as inevitable as destiny… Bring me what I want, and you shall have what you seek." He then purred, "Perhaps this will ease your mistrust of me?" One of his tentacles reached into his core and pulled out a folded paper, which was then placed in my hands. I opened it to see a word written in Dovahzul, Hah, or mind. "The second word, for your convenience." I looked up at the Daedra warily. "Miraak knows the final Word. Without that, you cannot hope to surpass him. Miraak served me well, and he was rewarded. I can grant you the same power that he wields, but all knowledge has its price. Send the Skaal shaman to me. He holds the secrets that will be mine."

With that said, he dipped back into the ocean, and not another word was spoken. My legs turned noodly, but I didn't let myself crumple, and I stuffed the note into my bag before I turned to the book upon the podium and opened it. 

I hadn't even had a glimpse at the pages before I heard a boot scuff against the ground. I tensed and looked. Miraak was standing there, just beyond the veil of darkness, his mask glinting in the dull light. He simply remained there, just out of sight, watching. I didn't take my eyes off of him, and I opened the book fully so I could get the hell out of that library.

The book's tendrils dropped me onto the floor of Tel Mithryn, and I came to with a wet gasp. Neloth was standing over me, his lips pursed. I squinted at him. 

"What?"

"May I have my book, now, dearie?" he hissed. With a groan, I grabbed up the book from my lap and passed it over my head to him. "You can leave now." I hauled myself up from the floor, but couldn't make myself stand, the vertigo too intense, and I ended up collapsing to my side. Neloth rolled his eyes, turned on his heel, and left the room. 

"Talvas, boy, clean this mess of a woman up and send her on her way!" My gut lurched, but I managed to hold the contents of my bowels down. "And give her something to keep her from vomiting on my floors! I just had them cleaned!"


End file.
